


Vibrant State

by Merc_with_a_mouth



Category: Star Trek
Genre: M/M, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Vulcan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 09:45:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9379067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merc_with_a_mouth/pseuds/Merc_with_a_mouth
Summary: When soulmate dies, world goes black and white. You feel the pain your soulmate felt when they died etc.





	

All colour seeps from the fabric of the universe, replacing happiness with only misery and despair. He stops mid sentence, his previous rambling no longer seeming important enough to continue. What had once been a utopia of iridescence is now an abyss of dark hopelessness and pain.  
He'd been so obliviously carefree only moments ago but the memories of colour are so distant, so out of reach, it feels as though millennia have passed in only 10 short seconds.   
"Jim?" The colour seeps from the man's skin, although he wouldn't be able to tell, leaving an almost luminous glow- sickly and defiant.   
He blinks once... twice... three times, each time hoping that this is all a misunderstanding and the world will return its usual vibrant state but no such luck occurs. The truth isn't going away and it's about the sucker punch the soldier right in the heart.   
That's when the pain begins. It's sheer agony, despite whatever resilience his life has given him. It knocks the wind out of him instantly and causes him to fall to his knees.   
It feels as though every fibre of his being is being unwound, every inch of him coming apart until he is no longer whole.   
It begins in his fingers. The ends ripple with pure agony one by one, as each nail is slowly (yet forcefully) ripped from its cuticle base. He can only imagine the bloody craters that would have been left before the next wave begins.   
The skin of his chest bubbles at a temperature which feels so easily comparable to that of the sun. He swears his heart stops at the sensation- so intense, so overwhelming.   
He hasn’t even had the worst of it yet.  
He’s so unprepared for what comes next. It washes over him like a tsunami, ruthless and unforgiving. It’s torment like he’s never felt before. Everything he thought sacred is ripped from him in bloody shreds, causing him to think maybe his faith is misplaced. Maybe everything he once thought to be true is actually a well concealed lie, hidden beneath layers of arrogance and faux wisdom.  
He can’t move. His limbs are pinned firmly in place by an unknown force. His mouth is sealed shut and his breathing is laboured as a result. A constant pressure holds him, making it impossible to move but when he tries to find the source, he comes up empty handed. And then it’s black.  
Not the same black and white, which would now be soothing to behold, but darkness, emptiness, nothing. Sheer nothingness. He is shrouded in the cloak of the abyss, with the drawstring too tight around his neck. His eyes burn as if flooded with acid.  Every second burns through cells he didn’t even know existed. Until all he can feel are empty agonising caverns of what once was but no longer is.  
His breathing stops. His lungs fill not with precious oxygen, but instead with what feels to be water- gallons of the stuff. He is drowning and each gasp is so much worse than the last. Each gasp pushes him past another breaking point. It torture beyond torture. He can’t breath, he can’t see and he is in agony.  
The veil of death seems to cloak around him in that moment, submerged beneath water but the torment isn’t over. This is the apex and it hurts so much more than physical pain ever could.   
He is thrown headfirst into the deep end of Spock’s mind and nothing he’s seen will ever quite compare to what he’s experiencing now.  
All the dark thoughts in Spock’s mind are now in front of him- exposed and vulnerable. Jim sees everything Spock sees and feels everything Spock feels. How did he ever think Spock felt nothing?  
He can feel Spock screaming for him in his mind- his human half running rampage through the chambers of his mind. He can feel Spock begging for Jim to find him, hoping the pain will be over soon. That’s when all hope fades away, with a knife to the chest and lungs full beyond capacity. Jim isn’t coming to save the Vulcan this time.   
And then Spock thinks something that will haunt Jim with every breath he takes from now until his ultimate demise. “I’m sorry for all the pain this is going to cause you, Jim.” The anger rivals against the pain, making the situation worse by ten fold. Spock was dying and all he could think was how his death would hurt Jim. “I am sorry that I caused you to feel torment such as this.” Jim can see Spock’s form at that moment- head beneath water, knife plunging in and out of his chest, eyes merely cavities where sight used to roam, fingers bloodied stumps but he is calm as he recites everything he wants Jim to hear before he’s gone. Jim can feel his fear though. Calm doesn’t negate the fear no matter how much the Vulcan hopes it will. “The only thing I can find hope in now is you, James Kirk. As I am going I  find comfort in that it was me rather than you; and I hope that somehow acts as currency in my favour towards your forgiveness.” Spock’s thoughts burn like stitches in his heart and despite knowing the end of his tether to the Vulcan is frayed beyond salvation, he thinks with the might of a thousand storms and a hundred nuclear explosions;  
“I love you.” He knows nothing will come of his confession. Spock never knew their bond was more than some age old Vulcan legend. Spock never got to know his worth and how the months he spent by Jim’s side are currency enough for any of his trespasses (of which there are so few). But Spock also never gets to know how much Jim regrets the things he has done, how he acted when Abigail was taken too soon. Jim never gets to tell Spock how sorry he is for all he has inflicted upon the half human.   
There is nothing for Jim to forgive, but so much that has to be forgiven.   
A pulse radiates through Jim’s writhing body. It’s weak. It’s not his.   
“I cherish thee, James Tiberius Kirk.” The breath catches in Jim’s throat as the pulse lurches forward as the life source of his counterpart settles upon a flat line.   
Jim can’t move. The pain no longer haunts every cell in his body, instead he is numb. He felt Spock’s soul be ripped away from him and now he feels nothing- he can’t feel anything.   
Spock’s last thoughts were of him.   
Jim never deserved that.


End file.
